The Great Aspiration
by mad dragonqueen
Summary: Three years ago, Ginny Weasley lost her best friend. Now, her opinions gain unprecedented attention, and she's about to do the unthinkable: fall in love.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Press, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended

**Author's Note:** Hmm… okay, this is my attempt at D/G fluff. Don't know if it's gonna work, hope so… please review and tell me, if you review, I'll give you fudge! grin

**Prologue**

Ginny Weasley sat staring at the moving quill in front of her. She narrowed her eyes at it, and with a determined set to her jaw, grasped it in her hand and tried to make it write what _she _wanted it to write.

It was useless. The damn thing had probably been charmed. She could guess it was either Fred or George. The twins had been to visit her earlier, and she had unthinkingly left them alone in her office to get the tea.

She sighed, and left the quill to its nonsensical scribbling. Moving with cat-like grace, she descended the ladder down into the main part of her flat. The décor was relatively simple—her mother had told her on more than one occasion that it was barren, but Ginny liked the simplicity of the clean lines and sparse furniture. The place had already been furnished when she moved in two years ago. It was part of the reason why she'd moved in.

It didn't much matter that her landlord was a Muggle, or that she had to smuggle owls in through the roof window in her office, as long as the place was hers and hers alone. After living in the Burrow for 24 years, it felt incredible to finally have some space—not to mention peace and quiet.

She bounced onto her sofa, upsetting the gray cat that lounged there. The creature turned to her with a reproachful look.

"Don't look at me that way, you ungrateful little wretch. I feed you, you know." She giggled as the cat turned his tail to her and stalked away.

She stretched out and idly pointed her wand at the stereo (a Muggle contraption she found very useful when listening to Muggle music). Scorpion blared out, and Ginny headed toward the kitchen to get some water on the stove for pasta.

After leaving Hogwarts, Ginny had gotten a job writing an editorial column for the _Daily Prophet._ At first, it was only meant to be temporary, but the job had stuck (of course, it didn't hurt that every time she threatened to leave, they gave her a raise).

Her first editorial had been her about the events of her 6th year, the year Harry Potter defeated Voldemort. She never knew _why _she chose to write about that; it was a tricky subject for her very first piece. However, that piece had been the turning point of her life. Shortly after it was published, people wandering Diagon Alley were coming up to her and thanking her for writing it. For some reason, people seemed to take comfort in her honest opinions on what had happened.

The water boiled and Ginny rushed to add the pasta. That piece had brought her the best friend she'd ever had. Draco Malfoy, for reasons nobody but he ever knew, contacted Ginny shortly after she'd written it, and asked if he could take her to lunch. Nobody had seen much of Draco since he'd left Hogwarts but, as he later told Ginny, it had more to do with people not wanting to see him, than him really being out of sight.

She sighed and stirred the pasta absently. Lucifer, the gray cat, wove himself in and out of Ginny legs, rubbing against her and purring. She looked down at him and chuckled, reaching down to scratch his cheeks.

She poured herself a glass of red wine and closed her eyes, letting the resounding base of the music thrum through her head.

When her friendship with Draco had begun, she had been dating Harry. Her relationship with Harry had been a disaster from the very beginning, and had lasted less than a year. They stayed friends, but nothing could ever erase the memory of their completely chaotic time together. Draco had never dated anyone in the three years he was around. She'd always wondered about that, but was grateful at the same time. He'd always had time for her, to listen to her petty troubles and make her see how stupid they really were. Then, about 4 months before he disappeared, he'd given her Lucifer, telling her the gray cat had found its way to his doorstep the day they'd first gone to lunch, and he wanted her to have him.

The pasta was done and Lucifer was begging for petting. She sighed and stood up, leaving her wine glass on the coffee table. She shuffled her stocking feet as she walked to the kitchen, trying not to trip over the nagging cat.

* * *

Ginny awoke with a start the next morning. She was strewn haphazardly across her bed, one of her socks half off her foot and her hair sticking to her cheeks. She grumbled and fumbled for the clock. Her eyes bulged when she saw the time, and she scrambled to get out of bed. Her foot caught in the sheets, and she fell with a loud thud to the floor.

Kicking the sheet off and shouting obscenities, she hurried to the ladder leading to the loft. She had to finish her intalment and send it in by 9:00 a.m. Bursting into her office, she spied the quill still scribbling gibberish on her parchment, and she rushed at it. With a near-guttural cry, she snapped the thing in two and tossed it down the ladder for Lucifer to play with.

Pulling fresh parchment from the magical drawer on the flat table, she grabbed a fresh quill, dipped it into the ink, and started to rewrite her piece.

_Average Thoughts by Ginny Weasley_

_Giselda Penniworth, heiress, has a claim to fame among both wizards and Muggles. This week, the opera singer is taking advantage of both communities, by announcing… an announcement. She has long been planning a trip to London (Muggle and Wizarding), and has now told us that, when she comes, she will be formally announcing her engagement. So far, Miss Penniworth has been secretive about her future husband, but this columnist suspects it will all come out on her visit here, sometime next week. I suppose_

_Miss Penniworth just wants to tantalize her fans with tidbits of her personal life but, quite frankly, I find it rather annoying. To begin with, it's rather idiotic to announce an announcement, and second, Penniworth seems to have a flare for drama which I find despicable, and an overlarge ego. Perhaps her fiancé is a rich, dashing young man who will woo the world, or perhaps he's a weak, sniveling tagalong. Whatever he is, I assure you, I could care less. If Miss Penniworth thinks her fame will get her adored and admired wherever she goes, I am determined to prove otherwise. Dear Reader, you may look forward to many scathing comments about the attention-seeking witch in the weeks to come. On a lighter note, the Ministry has recently…_

When Ginny finished her piece, she sealed it tightly in an envelope and hurried downstairs with it. She had no owl of her own, so she had to go to Diagon Alley to send her work in to the _Daily Prophet. _She dressed quickly in a pair of soft, grey pants, and a large, flouncy shirt. Clutching her envelope, she Apparated to Diagon Alley.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

After delivering her piece to the _Daily Prophet,_ Ginny wandered around Diagon Alley for a bit before finally settling at her usual small cafe. The waitress, a tiny, petite girl, Ginny noted with some asperity, hurried up to take her order.

While she waited for her bagel and coffee to arrive, she pondered the people before her; wizards and witches bustling through the street, weaving between each other to get to their respective destinations. She tried to guess where a small, squat witch dragging along a boy and girl was going. It was not long before a voice calling her name roused her from her musings.

"Ginny! Ginny!" called a harassed looking wizard, his arms full of packages.

"Neville!" said Ginny, standing up to help him with his load.

"Thanks," said Neville, once he was seated opposite her. The waitress returned with Ginny's breakfast.

"Can I get you anything, sir?" the waitress asked him.

"Nothing for me, thank you. Well, Ginny, what are you doing here so early?" he asked. She swallowed a mouthful of bagel and gestured pointlessly with her coffee mug.

"Sending in my column instalment for next week. Didn't get to have breakfast before coming down here." She took another bite of bagel. "How're things at the Ministry?" Neville was employee in the Department of Transportation. In fact, he was the only one doing his particular job, and seemed always to be busy.

"Oh, just the usual. Had to rush out and get a few personal things." He nodded at the packages. "My day starts early," he added, with a rueful grin. She nodded sympathetically.

"How've you been lately? Haven't seen you around much," asked Neville, eyeing her like cooked meat. She chuckled.

"Fine. I've been spending a lot of time in Muggle London. It's more convenient to my flat." She sipped her coffee and finished the last of her bagel. Neville looked dubious.

"Still, Ginny…You should come to the Ministry sometime, and we'll have lunch." He looked at her hopefully. She smiled.

"Sure, Neville." He beamed.

"Well, I must be off then, see ya, Ginny." He stood up and gathered his packages once again. He grinned at her and turned and headed off down the street. She sipped her coffee and watched him go. She didn't really want to go to the Ministry. She liked Neville very much, but for some reason she really didn't want to leave her flat, go all the way down to the Ministry, and sit for an hour lunch with him. She sighed, finished the rest of her coffee, and Apparated back home.

* * *

It had never being easy being the only girl in a family with six boys. It had never been easy being the youngest, either. Despite her intense love of all her family, she couldn't stand these get-togethers at the Burrow. Fred and George always pestered her about her love life, Ron and his wife Hermione were usually all over each other in what Ginny considered a sickening display. Percy was his usual self and lectured her about everything and anything, but more often than not about the opinions expressed in her column. Bill and Charlie were, admittedly, generally well behaved, but Charlie had a habit of questioning her about things she wasn't sure she knew the answer to and looking at her like it was some big secret they shared.

Her mother was not much better. She bustled about, worrying, fretting, feeding her, and usually trying to convince her to move back home. Her father tended to just sit back and smile at her a lot.

So now, with some apprehension, she climbed the steps and stepped into the home of her childhood.

It seemed more crowded than usual, and it did not take Ginny long to notice why. About ten screaming, bouncing, energetic children were running all about. Ginny could only guess it was ten; since they moved about so it seemed like twenty. She stood, mouth agape, arms hanging limply at her sides as the children ran circles around her, chanting gibberish.

"Hello, Ginny," said a gentle, friendly voice. Ginny quickly closed her mouth and looked up into a pair of smiling, green eyes. Harry stood before her, grasping a giggling child with an arm around his chest and another between his legs. The young boy, whom Ginny now noticed had similar green eyes, was hanging slightly on the diagonal, and seemed perfectly content in that position.

"Hi, uh—" she began, but was cut off when her mother, Ron, and brown haired, petite woman came into the room.

"Ginny!" cried Mrs. Weasley, "why didn't you tell us you were here?" She moved forward to take Ginny's package and relieve her of her coat.

"Hey, Gin," said Ron, pulling her into a great, brotherly hug.

"Ginny, this is Sharona… my wife," said Harry, motioning the petite brunette forward. Ginny stared open-mouthed for several seconds, before she realizing it was probably rude.

"Hi, sorry. Nice to meet you," she said, blushing and rushing forward to take the woman's proffered hand.

"It's good to meet you too. I've heard much about you." She smiled at Harry, and he looked back at her, his eyes full of possessive pride and—love.

"Come, come," said Mrs. Wealey, "everyone in the kitchen now. Hurry along." She herded them all into the next room, picking a child off his sister along the way.

"I thought everyone usually left their children at home," Ginny said quietly to her mother when she had the chance.

"Oh, well, since Harry was back from where ever he was, with his new wife, we just decided to have everyone over. Isn't it lovely?" Ginny smiled and nodded, not really thinking it was lovely at all. These get-togethers were noisy enough without the monsters that Ron had convinced her were her nephews, and now Harry's twin boy and girl. Percy's young ones were usually pretty quiet, but the excitement of other children around was too much, even for them. She sighed. She really just wanted the night to be over so she could go home and sit in her loft with her cat and a glass of wine.

* * *

Later, when she and Hermione were sitting alone in the kitchen, Ginny finally got to ask the question that had been praying on her mind all night.

"When did Harry get married?" she blurted into the silence. Hermione did not look up from knitting a sweater for her daughter.

"Oh, I'm not entirely sure. I know Ron and I got a letter from him about three years ago. But I think he was married before that. Perhaps… four of five years." Then something suddenly occurred to her, and she looked up at Ginny, her expression odd.

"Does that… bother you? I mean, that he didn't tell you?" she asked.

Ginny thought it over for a minute. "Not…really. I guess I'm just sort of surprised. The twins are… cute." She said, positive Hermione could not possibly have missed the unconvinced hesitation in her voice. But Hermione looked up again and beamed.

"I know, aren't they? They're the perfect playmates for little Ronnie and Markie, and little Alice." Ginny soon wished she had never said anything, for Hermione promptly launched into a narrative about her children that Ginny found nearly as sickening as one of her and Ron's displays.

A short while later, Harry came into the kitchen, looking intent.

"Hermione, could I speak to Ginny for a minute?" he asked.

"Oh, of course. If anyone needs me…" she let the sentence dangle, and took her knitting out of the kitchen.

"Hi," said Harry, when they were alone.

"What do you want?" Ginny was never one for beating about the bush.

Harry sighed heavily. "I guess I just wanted to make sure things were okay, with us. With my not telling you, I guess, about Sharona." He looked at her expectantly.

"Oh, I don't mind. really," Ginny said reassuringly. After all was said and done, she still deeply cared about Harry Potter. She reached forward and took his hand. He smiled.

"I tried to, a couple times. But, it never seemed right. I know that we once-"

"Oh, that was awful, Harry. We were such a mess. You can't still believe I'd be upset if you married someone else?" Harry chuckled and looked down at the table with a rueful smile.

"I suppose not. I—I wish it had worked with us, Ginny. I really do." She leaned forward, and put her arms around him. It felt good just to be held for once.

"Well, I suppose we ought to get out there," she said resignedly. He nodded and led her out into the other room.

* * *

Two hours later, she sauntered wearily into her flat and, tossing her coat onto a chair, stared about her.

_Ah, peace, _she thought. _Quiet!_ She sank gratefully onto the sofa and rubbed her neck and shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension built up over the long night. She noted absently that it was nearly three in the morning. With a sigh, she flicked her wand at the stereo. Buffalo Springfield's version of For What It's Worth streamed out, relaxing her. She rolled onto her back and stretched her long legs out in front of her. Lucifer came walking in with cat-like grace and hopped onto the sofa. He settled himself on her chest and purred as she absently scratched his ears. She hummed along to the song, and was eventually lulled to sleep by the simple notes, and Lucifer's purring.

* * *

Ginny awoke around noon the next day to a strange tapping sound coming from somewhere above her. Lucifer was gone from his spot on her chest and the lights on the stereo were blinking frantically, but no sound emerged. She sat up and stretched, feeling the stiffness in her joints and fervently wishing she had not fallen asleep on the sofa.

She looked around, trying to decipher where the noise was coming from. Then it hit her. _The loft! Owls!_

She scrambled to get to the ladder. Usually, letters for her went to her box at the post office in Hogsmeade, which she visited about once a week-unless they were really important. As she climbed up into the loft, she saw the tawny owl pecking urgently at the window. She opened it and let the creature in out of the cold.

The owl swooped in, perched on a lamp, and ruffled its feathers vigorously. Then it

stretched out its leg with great dignity. Ginny gingerly took the letter from it, thanking it vocally as she had nothing to offer it. It seemed to sniff and swooped out of the room, disappearing in the gray sky. Ginny closed the window after it

Clutching her letter, Ginny headed back downstairs. She put some water on to boil before settling on a large, cushy chair to open and read her letter.

She did not recognize the handwriting, but since it had been addressed to her personally, she assumed it was someone she knew.

Five minutes later she sat there with the letter clenched in her fist, as the kettle whistled unnoticed in the kitchen.

_The nerve_, she thought. She tossed the crumpled letter away from her and stalked into the kitchen to clam the frantic screaming of the kettle and make her tea.

The letter had been from no one less than Miss Giselda Penniworth. Ginny was used to getting nasty letters from celebrities who were offended by what she's said about them in her column, but this had completely caught her off guard. Penniworth hadn't even seemed _offended._ She had a sweetness to her letter, which made Ginny feel ill. She had actually offered to _pay _Ginny, if Ginny would cover her wedding plans with what she termed as "an elegant look." To Ginny, it just seemed like Penniworth's attempt to get Ginny in her pocket. Ginny had never been more insulted in her entire life. With defiance, she stomped back up to the loft to begin her next column. Giselda Penniworth was about to find out that Ginny Weasley could not be bought.


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** How can one thank one's beta-reader, when one's beta-reader is so much more than that? Story finder, editor, sounding board. *sigh* Well, ya know I love you, mwah! Thanks to all who reviewed! Sorry this chapter took so long.

Chapter 2

Ginny felt sick. She groaned and rolled over onto her back, staring up at the white ceiling of her bedroom. She breathed slowly, in an out, trying to force down the wave of nausea. No good. She jumped up from the bed and rushed to the bathroom, falling on her knees before the toilet, and vomited violently. When she was finished, she moaned and slunk down, wiping her mouth.

Last night had been one of the worst nights she'd ever had. Harry had asked her to dinner and, of course, she'd accepted. She wanted to spend some time with Harry; he was like a brother to her -- not that she needed any more brothers. But all Ginny had wanted to do the entire evening was go home and sit on the sofa with Lucifer, reading a book. 

Harry did field work in the Department of International Cooperation. On the surface, it didn't sound like a very interesting job but, in reality, it was quite interesting and sometimes dangerous. Ginny learned that Harry had been in Russia when he'd met Sharona. That was after her first margarita. After her third, Ginny learned that they were in Egypt when Sharona was pregnant with Jamie and Meg. After her fifth, she thought she might've learned that they'd been in Paris with a buffalo…or perhaps birth. After her sixth, she couldn't remember learning anything. She'd never been quite so drunk in her life. Nor quite so hungover. 

She stood up, using the towel rack for support, and hobbled out of the bathroom, shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in her window. She somehow made her way to the kitchen and gulped down three and half glasses of water before stumbling back to bed and promptly falling asleep.

When she awoke later, she still felt sick, but admittedly much less trashed. She sat up and rubbed her eyes blearily. Lucifer was sitting patiently beside the bed, looking at her with eyes that calmly said, "You've slept long enough, now get up an feed me before I claw your pretty face unrecognizable." She was sorely tempted to toss her pillow at him.

Instead, she stood up and followed the aristocratic feline to the kitchen and fed him. It was twelve-thirty. 

She dressed slowly in a man's shirt and a pair of black slacks. She slipped her feet into a pair of sandals and surveyed her reflection in the mirror. Her red hair was cut short and curled slightly around her ears. Her skin was pale and clear but for a light dusting of freckles on her nose. Perhaps she was a bit too pale, she noticed.

When she had finished with her appraisal of herself and cleaned up after Lucifer's breakfast, she Apparated to Hogsmeade. The wizarding village wasn't terribly busy at noon on a Thursday and she ambled calmly though the streets. She headed in the general direction of the post office, in absolutely no rush to sort through the onslaught of mail she received weekly. She paused at a few shops to examine trinkets in the window. Ginny bought a few things for Lucifer to play with and new quill for herself. She eventually reached the post office and, with a resigned sigh, pushed open the door and took a place in line. 

Once she had claimed the contents of her box and sorted out the junk, she took the rather large pile to a very small pub hidden behind a broom shop. The Broken Wand was not as popular as The Three Broomsticks, which was exactly why Ginny liked it. It was quieter, smaller, and much less crowded. She walked in, took a seat in a back booth, and ordered a light lunch. 

She then commenced the painstaking task of reading her mail. She referred to it as "reader's comments" but, in reality, it was a bit more like fan mail. The first letter was from Joanna Bingham. It had little point, and Ginny just skimmed it. The next was from Arch Mayfew, who thought Giselda Penniworth had a beautiful voice and seemed a nice enough lady, and maybe Ginny shouldn't be so harsh. Ginny snorted.

Ginny's last piece had included a few choice excerpts from Penniworth's letter, along with a clear and detailed outline of how she imagined Penniworth's wedding might go. It also expressed Ginny's offense at the attempted bribe and an apology to the world in general that such an idiot of a woman existed at all.

The next letter was unsigned, and it expressed the writer's delight that a "young person" such as Ginny was able to see through the façade of celebrity, but perhaps Ginny could be a bit nicer. Giselda was probably just misunderstood and lonely. 

Most of the letters were about Penniworth, and after she'd read five or six, she tossed out any letter that had the word "Giselda" in it. As she was coming down to the last of the envelopes, she noticed one in particular. The paper was clear and smooth, and the address on the cover was written in a delicate, precise, aristocratic hand. 

Ginny felt her breath quicken. She stared at the letter, afraid it would shatter if she handled it too roughly. There was something decidedly different about this letter, and there was something unsettlingly familiar about the hand that had addressed it. 

Carefully, so as not to tear the envelope, Ginny opened the letter and pulled out a piece of thin, white parchment. She unfolded it delicately and felt her heart flutter. 

_Dear Ginny,_

I might've known you'd have something to say about Miss. Penniworth. I imagine the look on your face when you read the letter she sent you. I'd have been offended as well. I've recently arrived in London, on business of a personal nature. I would like to see you, if you can spare the time for me. I shall be at the Broken Wand (if I'm not mistaken, you don't like crowds) at two on Friday.

Yours,  
Draco Malfoy

Ginny stared at it for a few moments, then carefully folded it and replaced it in the envelope. She gulped, trying to force down the wave of joy that wanted to surge through her entire being. No one had ever understood her like Draco Malfoy. He'd picked up her dislike of crowds after only one meal with her (their first one) in the Leaky Cauldron. But this sort of overwhelming glee was not natural. 

There had also been something strange about his letter. Hesitant, almost. She could almost see him weighing the words carefully before writing them down, making sure it was absolutely perfect. She could just hear the teasing note in his voice when he referred to her dislike of crowds. God, she knew him so well.

She sighed and cleared away the last few letters, dumping them in the trash. She couldn't bear to read them now. She had to go home and… and what? She wasn't sure, but most definitely go home and do something. 

By dinnertime she had done quite a lot of somethings. She'd showered, shaved, and spent nearly thirty minutes trying to get her hair just so. For some unfathomable reason, and to his everlasting humiliation, she'd given Lucifer a thorough cleaning and brushing. She'd cleaned the entire flat, dusting out corners she'd hadn't even seen before. Ginny knew it was irrational. It was unlikely he'd see her flat, and she had no idea how long he'd be here. He could disappear again and never know she'd spent all this time primping, cleaning, and cat-capturing.

By midnight, she collapsed on the sofa, exhausted. Ginny chastised herself. She'd have circles under her eyes tomorrow. With a happy sigh, she scooped Lucifer into her arms and carried him to the bedroom. Mere minutes later, she was snuggled under the covers and sleeping peacefully.

* * * Ginny went through the next morning in a semi-haze. She showered, ate breakfast, and fed Lucifer (although she had the feeling she might've fed him canned pineapple rather than cat-food). At noon, she stopped pacing the living room and sat on the sofa, staring at the front door. Somewhere, her mind registered that music might be comforting, if not relaxing, and she absently waved her wand at the stereo. Styx came blaring out, but she hardly registered the sound at all. It was Lucifer rubbing against her legs that finally brought her out of her reverie. 

_This cannot be healthy_, she thought. _I've got it get out and do something_. Before Lucifer could react, she'd snatched him up, clasped a cat leash on him, and was heading out the door.

* * * Ginny didn't walk around Muggle London often. She might live in it, but she had never really had the inclination to go exploring it. So, walking down her own street, Lucifer struggling ferociously in his lead, she felt quite adventurous.

Walking down the street, she examined the other flats. Most of them had balconies with little patio settings. Ginny would've liked a patio. She came to the street corner. There was a café there that Ginny ate at often, sometimes working on her column. She waved at the proprietor before continuing on her way. There were a few other cafes and restaurants that she spent time in, but she passed them by (something she'd never done before) and continued on to wander among the shops and boutiques. Muggle shops amused her, and she examined all the window displays carefully before moving onto the next one.

By the time she got home again, it was nearly two. Ginny sighed, pleased with herself. The time had passed so quickly when she hadn't been thinking about it. With a few extra touches to her dress and person, she Apparated to the Broken Wand.

* * * He wasn't there yet. She breathed with relief. She'd hoped to get to the Broken Wand first, so she could get used to being there. And the idea of him being there. Her stomach felt fluttery, so she ordered a glass of something fizzy to calm the butterflies.

Lord, it was hot. She took off her sweater and sat, drinking her fizzy drink and trying to stop her foot from tapping frantically beneath the table. The minutes ticked by.

At two-thirty, Ginny was feeling considerably less rumpled and considerably more irritated. Though with herself or Draco, she wasn't quite sure. She was just getting ready to leave when a familiar platinum-blond head appeared in the doorway. Her breath caught in her throat and she nearly choked.

His eyes scanned the pub and landed on her. She stared, wide-eyed. This had not been part of her plan, and she was most definitely not ready for his appearance. He smiled when he saw her and quickly made his way over to her table.

"I'm so sorry I was late, I was… detained," he said. "Ginny?" he asked when she gave no reply. She let out a bubble of nervous laughter, and he smiled. 

"I guess that means you're happy to see me." He gave her one of those _looks_. She thought she would melt.

"Of course I am!" she said enthusiastically, standing up and reaching forward to give a firm hug. He put his arms around her and she felt inexplicably calmed and relaxed.

"Well, then. I haven't eaten, so do you mind if I order anything?" he asked. It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't eaten since breakfast. 

"No, I'll be joining you. So, why were you late?" she added when their food had arrived.

"Uh… it's complicated. Just couldn't get away." She had a feeling he was dodging the subject.

"Well, it isn't nice to keep girl waiting for half an hour, especially when she hasn't seen you in three years!" She reached across the table and playfully cuffed his arm. He chuckled.

"I suppose not. How've you been Ginny?" She sighed and looked at her food.

"I've been… better." She didn't elaborate further, and he didn't ask her to.

"I ran into Harry in Africa," he said. Ginny was shocked.

"What? He never said a word."

"Well, he wasn't too pleased to see me. Started blathering on about some woman named Sharona." Ginny giggled. "What's so funny?"

"She's his wife." 

"Oh, yes. Well. That explains a lot." She burst out laughing. Her laughter only got louder at the dark look he sent her way.

"If I'm going to be laughed at, I'm not going to stay." She just laughed even harder. It felt good to see him again. Come to think of it, she couldn't really remember the last time she'd _really_ laughed.

"I've missed you," she said, between giggles and gasping breaths. He smiled at her.

"I missed you, Ginny." There was something in his voice that made her sober up. She looked at him sharply, but he had turned back to his food.

The time progressed, and before Ginny knew it, they were saying their goodbyes.

"I've got things to do. I wish I could stay," said Draco, hugging her and looking very disappointed.

"Well, you aren't leaving -- I mean, _really_ leaving -- are you?" It was an effort not to hold her breath.

"No," he said, chuckling and smiling fondly at her. "At least not for a while. I'll be by sometime next week, see how fat Lucifer has gotten." She giggled and swatted him playfully. He kissed her on the top of the head and left the pub. Ginny felt better than she had in a long time.


	4. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:** Um… this, obviously, was a REALLY long time in coming out. So I deeply apologize to anyone who still cares about it. I've loved all the reviews I've gotten. Thanks for your opinions and advice. Hopefully you'll still care about Chapter 3! So here it is, at long last. Once again, I apologise for the wait! Thanks to Audrey, as usual.

Chapter 3

Draco Malfoy stood in the hallway outside the flat belonging to Ginny Weasley. He just stood there, unsure of what to do. He had come here to see her. He'd promised her he'd come, but now that he was here, he just wanted to Apparate back to the quiet dark of home, where he knew he'd be safe. Ginny Weasley was anything but safe. She was the opposite of safe, and he'd known that for years. She was like fire, and that rumpled him deeply. But, after all, he was here for a reason, and he couldn't just let that go. It was too important.

He could hear the muffled sound of music coming from within. It was some Muggle band Ginny had told him about once. The Strolling Gnomes? Something like that. He took a deep breath and knocked firmly on the door. There was a noise -- sounded sort of like "Damnit!" -- in response, followed by a crash, and the howling of Lucifer.

"Just a minute!" He could hear her scrambling around, and a minute or two later, the music clicked off, and he heard her deadbolts removing. The door opened, and he was left breathless.

Ginny was not what most would call a beautiful woman. Her features were irregular and marked. Her hair was flaming red, and she was a little on the plump side. But she was curvy, and her hair, cut short, gave her an innocent look. Her skin was smooth and creamy, like porcelain. It didn't have the usual freckles that accompanied red hair. And her features were very exotic. It was difficult not to be overwhelmed by her. 

"Draco?" said Ginny, one of her eyebrows quirked. He was staring. 

"Ginny! You look fabulous!" Lucifer was purring and rubbing against his leg. "Mmm, he looks good. Not too fat, I see. Good job, Gin. May I come in?" 

"Of course. I was in the middle of cooking supper. If you're hungry, the food will be ready soon." She stepped out of the doorway and moved back to the kitchen. He saw her discreetly slip out her wand and clean up a kettle and red sauce. 

"You've redecorated," he said, observing the room. Last he'd been here, there'd been boxes for tables and some old-styled egg-crates for shelving.

"Yes, well, my column's begun to pay off, you know. I can afford real furniture now," she called from the kitchen. "There we are. Does beef stew sound all right?" She plopped down on the sofa and smiled at him.

"Sounds lovely" He sat down next to her. "Do you have any wine?" She sat up, startled.

"Oh, I completely forgot. Do you like Merlot? It's all I've got." He nodded. She whisked in an unopened bottle and two glasses. 

"So what shall we toast to?" he asked.

"Mmm, to renewed friendships." She smiled.

"Well, I can certainly drink to that. Cheers." The stew was done in a timely manner, and before long they were sitting at Ginny's little-used kitchen table and chatting as if they'd never been apart.

"So really, Draco," Ginny said later when they were back on the sofa. "What did bring you back to London, finally?" 

Draco sat up, and cleared his throat. He swallowed the last of his wine, and set the glass on the coffee table. 

"Um, well. Business, you could say. Partly business. My mother died—"

"Oh, Draco, I'm so sorry." She covered his hands with hers. He looked into her eyes, and was silent for a moment.

"Well, anyway," he continued, "with my father already gone, someone had to come back and take care of the affairs. The money, the house. Things like that. I'm maybe going to sell it."

"Really?"

"Yes. It seems drastic to some. It's been in the family for generations. My great-great grandfather built it when he came to England from France. He built it for his wife—or so my father always said." Ginny was watching him with her head tilted and resting on her fist. 

"At any rate, I don't want it. Too many bad memories fill that place, and not just mine. If someone else wants to deal with its ghosts, it'll be my pleasure to let them." Ginny blinked and sat up, sipping her wine.

"Well, I'm sure plenty of people will. It's high property. If you want, I can make a statement in my column. Free publicity?" He chuckled.

"That's all right, Ginny. My real estate wizard would be furious." His voice was cheerful, but Ginny noticed he avoided her gaze.

"Speaking of your column," he said, "has Penniworth reacted to your last instalment yet? It'd be interesting to see what she has say next." Ginny half-screamed and threw up her hands.

"Arrgh! I am so sick of Giselda Penniworth! I wish she'd fall off the face of the planet! Or, at least, out of the Wizarding world!" She screamed into a pillow, and then tossed it angrily away from her. It hit Lucifer in the rear, and he yowled with indignance, scurrying from the room. Draco laughed.

"Do you now? That would be interesting. You know you got yourself into it."

"Of course I did, but I never expected--" The passion had not left her voice, and her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes sparkled.

"But really Ginny, what do you think of her?" He looked at her questioningly. She sighed.

"Well, I've never really met her. But that letter—I think she's probably exactly what she appears to be: spoilt, ill-tempered, self-centred, and solicitous. I can't imagine why people can bear to be in her company. And this fiancé of hers, I'm torn between thinking he must be the stupidest person in the world, or the poorest. I suppose if you were really poor, you'd be willing to put up with a woman like Penniworth, if it meant having money. But then, I just really don't see it." She swallowed her wine and refilled her glass. "That's what I think." Draco watched her, a pensive look on his face. 

"You're probably right, Ginny. And even if this fiancé is neither stupid nor poor, he must be extremely desperate. Or lonely." 

"Or both!" Ginny was grinning, and she lifted her glass. "Here's to him, whoever he is! The future Mr. Penniworth," she giggled, "may he have the best of luck!"

* * *

The next day, Ginny once again found herself hungover and behind on her column. She sat in her loft, with the skylight open, and tried to concentrate on writing. She found it very difficult to stare at the paper for long periods of time without exciting her headache. Sadly, magic seemed unable to cure the hangover, and for all she tried, the effects of alcohol remained immune to her puny wand's attempts. Lucifer mewled in his corner of the room, and she threw her quill up in despair. It was pointless. She had to turn it in tomorrow. It was a wonder she managed to make her deadlines _at all_.

She left the loft, walking briskly to her bedroom, and sifted through her closet. It was pointless to stay in, she thought. The weather was nice, and she needed a break from the same dreary confines of her flat. She found a brightly coloured t-shirt and a pair of nice, black slacks. They didn't exactly match, but she didn't care. It wouldn't matter, anyway. She put on her regular black sandals and walked out of the building, leaving Lucifer to practice his macramé on her column. 

It was a short walk to metro station, and soon she was on her way out to the country. Hermione would be surprised, but pleasantly so, and Ginny was, oddly enough, feeling social.

She arrived at Brick Place, Ron and Hermione's abode, at one o'clock, and knocked cheerfully on the door. 

"Who is it?" called Hermione, her muffled voice sounding haggard.

"It's Ginny."

"Oh, Ginny!" exclaimed Hermione when she opened the door. "How wonderful! I'm so glad you've come. Come in, come in." Hermione ushered Ginny into the house.

"The team has a game in two weeks, and Ron's just been out so much trying to whip his players into shape. Apparently they're out of shape, which I was not aware of, until he started coming home and complaining about it. I hate to ask, Ginny, but could you just help me get the kids to take a nap? Then we can chat." Ginny smiled, genuinely, and followed Hermione into the playroom, where the three children had created a scene on mass chaos. Hermione took her more gregarious and unmanageable sons by two arms and dragged them from the room, leaving Ginny to the easier task of removing Alice from a pillow fort. 

"Thank you so much, Ginny. You couldn't have come at a better time. I'm can't have any more children, I just can't. I love them dearly, but I'm afraid they'll drive me mad, or put me in an exhaustion-induced coma." Hermione did look exhausted as she handed Ginny a steaming cup of tea.

"No problem. I'm happy to have helped." Hermione gave Ginny a sweet smile and gulped her tea. Ginny would've expected her tongue to be burnt off. 

"Well, now, what've you come for, then?" asked Hermione, setting aside her mug.

"Um… well, nothing, I suppose. I wanted to get out of the house, and I though it would be nice to see you -- and Ron, if he was home." The last part was an afterthought. 

"Oh, it's been so long since we sat and had a good sisterly talk, Gin. Tell me, how have you been?" It was moments like these that Ginny remembered Hermione was more than just a husband-obsessed, child-infested housewife. She was smart, and fair, and she always listened in a way that made you feel fully heard and understood. 

"I've been, well… I guess I don't know how I've been. I've been… more anti-social than usual. I keep falling behind on my instalments. I guess I'm generally in a bad mood. I've been drinking a lot." Hermione made a face, no doubt remembering some past hangover, and looked concerned. 

"You haven't seemed so to me. Of course, I hardly see you, so… hmm. Guess that's why." Ginny nodded.

"Well, Gin, everyone's entitled to have moody periods. It just sort of happens, during the course of your life. When you forget how wonderful things really are, or when you lose someone you love. You'll be back to your old self, soon enough, I assure you." Ginny smiled. 

"I think I already am coming back to myself. And how about you Hermione?" Hermione sighed deeply and looked towards the nursery.

"I'm exhausted. I'm just so tired of having to be _on_ all the time. With one's husband, one's children, one's sodding dinner guests. I really… need a vacation. I asked Ron to take me to this lovely little place in the Pacific Ocean. It's a big wizard hotspot, called Easter. But he keeps putting it off. 'After the season, 'Mione,' 'When Alice is a little older,' 'We really can't right now, Herm, you know how busy we are.' Sometimes I think I'd like to dye his hair magenta in his sleep." Ginny giggled loudly, trying, and failing, to calm herself so as not to wake the kids. Hermione chuckled also.

"I know, it's terrible, isn't it?" said Hermione, her laughter growing by the second. 

"I can just see it," squeaked Ginny. "Oh, he'd get what he deserved, too! I'd do it, 'Mione, I really would."

"Well, maybe I will, next time he puts off our trip. It's just, sometimes he's right. I'd hate to leave Alice, she's still very young. And we've been very busy. Plus, with the Quidditch season. It isn't like Ron can just pick up and leave, his team needs him."

"Oh, Hermione, that's bollocks, and you know it. Why should everything be about someone else? You're not Superwoman. You have needs, and you get tired. Everyone needs a vacation, now and then." Ginny grinned. Hermione smiled gratefully.

"Certainly, Ginny."

"Draco Malfoy is, uh, back in town." Ginny tried not to cringe. Hermione sat down heavily in her seat, and looked at Ginny.

"Oh…" They were silent.

"Well, have you seen him?" she asked.

"Yes. We had lunch, and he came over for dinner yesterday. Really, it was just as if he'd never left, except, well… I don't know."

"Are you…going to see him again?"

"Well, we didn't exactly make plans. It was more of just an agreement. Nothing set in stone, though."

"Do you… want to see him again?"

"Of course I do! Why wouldn't I?"

"Relax, Ginny. It's just… well… he did sort of run off, without—"

"He gave me his cat!"

"Explanation. And, I mean, he _is_ Draco Malfoy. Now, don't interrupt me," Hermione used her mother voice, and Ginny shut her mouth.

"You've got a lot of reason not to want him around. And I realize you've got a lot of reasons to want him around. It just isn't that simple, Ginny. _You're_ the only one who's ever seemed to make a connection with him, and sometimes… the rest of us… wonder if you really did." She ended with a rather apologetic note. Ginny started to be indignant, but then she stopped. There was no point being angry with Hermione when she was only sharing her feelings. 

"I-I can understand that, Hermione. I don't really know what to say in response. How do you explain to someone something you aren't even sure of yourself? I _know_ Draco Malfoy as much -- no, _better_ -- than I know myself. I can't explain how I know, I just… do." Ginny turned her palms up in helplessness. Hermione nodded in acceptance and looked at her hands for a moment before speaking.

"I don't really have anything to say that can help you -- that is, if you even need help. I just hope that you know what's best for you. I do want you to be happy, and I do want Draco to be everything you think he is. And I'm willing to leave it at that."

"Thanks, Herm. You're -- you're not going to…"

"Oh, don't worry Ginny!" exclaimed Hermione, exasperated. "I'm not going to tell anyone!" Ginny smiled, grateful she had such a wonderful sister-in-law, and happy that Ron had managed earn the admiration of such a woman. Even if he was a prat for not taking her on vacation.

* * *

The following day Ginny woke up at 8 a.m., finished her column instalment, and sent it on its way to the _Daily Prophet_ print office. Her deadline was 1 pm, and she was several hours early. Immensely pleased with herself, she spent the rest of the morning freshening up her home and making herself look somewhat presentable. She was still not looking forward to this, but she had told Neville she would come, and so she would. Today, she would go meet Neville at the Ministry building for lunch.

At around noon, Ginny found herself standing in the lobby of the main Ministry building. She couldn't help comparing the place with the memory she had of when her father had brought her to work with him when she was very young. It was, she had to admit, much less grand than her little girl's memory of it.

"Ginny!" She spun around to see Neville come toward her out of an elevator. She walked to meet him, and he gathered her into a warm hug, kissing her on the cheek. She responded wholeheartedly, and was, much to her won surprise, glad she'd come. 

"I must say Ginny, when I got your message this morning, I was stunned beyond belief. I'm sorry, but I really didn't expect to hear from you for a while." He looked a trifle sheepish, and Ginny quickly tried to calm his nerves.

"Oh, don't be silly, Neville. Where are we going to eat? I'm famished." They walked together out the building.

Seated in the Muggle restaurant with Neville across from her, Ginny really felt quite silly.

"Neville, was such a fancy place really necessary?" she asked, unfolding her napkin in her lap and looking about.

"It's not as fancy as it looks. The food is really good, and Muggle money is worth less than wizard money. Doesn't cost me nearly as much as it costs them." His voice and his grins were so jovial, Ginny couldn't help but to submit.

"Say, Gin, shall we spring for some champagne?"

"No, no, no, no. Definitely not, Neville. I think I'd actually just like lemonade." She was beginning to feel a little suspicious. Neville looked disappointed, but his response was no less enthusiastic than before.

"Lemonade sounds fantastic. Waiter!" A hassled looking young man with a red waistcoat came to take their orders. Their food arrived quickly, and much conversation was temporarily stifled by the act of eating.

"It's really so nice that you came, Gin. I've been wanting us to get together for a long time." Neville had paused eating a moment to lean back in his chair and stretch. He was somewhat portly, but not really very fat. He always had been a little on the chubby side, and now he just looked beefy. He wasn't really handsome. Just… normal. Ginny liked that.

"I'm glad I came too, Nev."

"Well, you see Gin, I've been wanting to, er, talk to you about something." He wiped his mouth with his napkin and sipped his lemonade. Little nervous habits Ginny could easily read. She supposed it came from all her time spent trying to figure out Draco. His nervous habits were so much harder to detect. She remained quiet and allowed him to finish uninterrupted.

"You see, Ginny, I, er, well… I like you, Ginny. And I guess I'd really like to spend more time with you. We run into each other a lot in Diagon Alley, but…" He paused again, to gulp his lemonade. He was sweating, and he'd gone a bit pale. He was also avoiding looking her in the eyes.

"Well, you see, Ginny, what I'd really like is, or, I mean to say, if we should, er… I guess, what I'm saying is, uh… Ginny, would you like to go to dinner with me sometime?" It all came out in flush. Neville looked slightly horrified, slightly relieved. 

Ginny stared at her plate, sipped her drink, looked him straight in the eye and said, "Yes, Neville, I think I would like that very much." She smiled warmly and returned to her food. It was a while before Neville could recover enough to let the conversation return to normal, and the silences were awkward and many. But Ginny didn't mind. It gave her time to think things through.

In truth, just one week ago Ginny wouldn't have said yes to Neville. She would, of course, have been as nice as possible, but let him know she really wasn't interested in him that way, and that she wanted to maintain their friendship. However, now she felt different. Really, things could go somewhere with Neville, and he so very much is the type of man women marry. In every way. In his looks, his manners, his attitude, his job, even; they all made him the type of man women marry. The stereotype, she supposed. 

Of course, women do not marry men like Draco Malfoy, she thought. Then she decided not to think about that anymore.

* * *

Two days ago Neville Longbottom had been Ginny's good friend, and two days ago she had gotten her paycheck. Things were different now, as Neville was her dinner date tomorrow night, and her paycheck was completely spent. She knocked tentatively on the door of Brick Place.

"Come in!" shouted Rom. There was a loud _fzzzz_ sound, followed by a sharp _thunk_. "Ow!" 

Hermione came into the living room just as Ginny was shutting the front door.

"He's attempting to use some sort of gadget Fred gave him yesterday. I don't know why, but for some reason the wallpaper in our bedroom doesn't look nice anymore, and rather than fix it with magic, as I told him to, he's decided to use Fred's… thing."

"'Mione," said Ron, plaintively, as he came into the room. "'Mione I think I've just done something awful to my thumb, I can't bear to look. How bad is it? Do I need to go to St. Mungo's?" 

She rolled her eyes and swatted at him. "You're thumb is fine, Ron. Say hello to your sister."

"Oh, hi, Gin." He kissed her on the cheek and turned to leave the room. "Better get back to work then."

Hermione and Ginny shared amused glances and exited to the kitchen. 

"Hermione, I need to talk to you about something." Ginny took a seat at the table while Hermione prepared tea.

"Of course, Ginny, what is it?"

"Well, I never got you guys an anniversary present. Ever. For any of your anniversaries, and--"

"Oh, Ginny, like we care. Really, you needn't ever get us anniversary presents, I think its sort of stupid really, for other people to give you presents on your anniversary. I like Ron's presents best anyway."

"Hermione, you didn't let me finish. Now, I decided to make up for my negligence by getting you one big present, to make up for all the little presents I missed giving." Hermione looked at her rather suspiciously, and Ginny handed her a brown paper-wrapped package. Hermione opened it carefully and peaked inside.

"It's a travel package. Everything's been paid for. Transportation, lodging. I even booked a tour guide. She's a cute little witch named Ellavar." 

"Oh, Ginny, we can't. Oh, Ron can't, the team, after all. And what would we do with the kids? Ginny, oh, thank you so much Ginny, but… I just can't."

"Of course you can, Ron has absolutely no good excuse. If he doesn't take you, _I'll_ dye his hair magenta. And, this really works for both of us, because, I'd like to take the kids. Now, don't give me that look, I really would. I have a theory that they might not be so bad if I had a little time to get used to them. Please, Hermione?" Hermione looked at the package and looked at Ginny. Her expression was pained. She was clearly torn. Slowly she began to smile, and Ginny smiled too.

"All right, Ginny, all right!" She spun around the kitchen a bit in excitement. "Ohh, Easter Island! Ginny, this is fantastic, I can never thank you enough." She gave her sister-in-law and huge hug and kissed her twice on both cheeks, and once on the top of the head. Her joyous laughter and merriment eventually brought her husband to the kitchen, who stood, bewildered, before his wife as she explained that they were going on vacation, and before he really realised what was going on, he had said yes, and everything was settled. They would leave tomorrow, and Ginny took the kids with her when she left.

Later that night he lay awake in bed trying to figure out what had gone wrong. He eventually gave up the search, however, when he remembered how happy his wife had been, and how well she'd rewarded him. Ah, well, you win some, you lose some, and sometimes you do both.

* * *

"Aunt Ginny, are we really going to stay with you for three whole weeks?" asked Ronald Weasley, Jr., looking up at Ginny from a peanut butter and jam sandwich. 

"Yes, Ronnie, finish your supper." She was attempting to wipe jam off of Alice's fingers before she wiped them on her white dress. 

"This isn't supper," said Marcus, a whine creeping into his voice. "Mummy always makes hot suppers. Peanut butter and jam isn't hot."

"Well, I'm not your mother, Markie, I'm you aunt, and this is what I make for supper." She threw her towel up in disgust as Alice spread a large smear of purple right down her front. She sighed and looked at her youngest nephew.

"Tomorrow we'll have something hot, but tonight we are having this. Eat up." Ginny wasn't exactly regretting her decision, but she was getting worried. Plus, she had her date with Neville tomorrow, and she didn't know whom she'd get to watch the kids.

Forty minutes later she had a conjured up a bed for the boys, which was placed in the loft, and Alice was tucked delicately in with her. Ginny was not at all used to going to bed this early, and Alice kicked. She knew it would be a very long time before she slept. 

At midnight, she got up and sent an owl to Harry and Sharona. When she woke up in the morning, Hedwig was pecking at the loft window, and had woken up the boys. As she wearily tried to get the children to eat oatmeal, she at least had the comfort that tonight, she had a babysitter. 

* * *

"Oo, pretty. Mine, mine!" Alice held a pair of shiny dangle earrings in her fat little hands and bounced gleefully.

"No, Alice, those are Aunt Ginny's. Give them here." Alice began to cry, and Ronnie got mad, and Ginny finally got her earrings, but by then everything was so out of control, she wished she hadn't. 

"Oh, please get here, Sharona, I don't know what to do with kids!" she muttered under her breath. Sharon was due any minute, and Neville would be here in half an hour. 

By the time Markie had managed to rip two pairs of nylons, the doorbell rang, and Ginny rushed to answer it with a joy she'd never felt before. 

"Oh, thank goodness, Sharona. I'm just about ready to scream." She threw herself on the petite woman and embraced her firmly.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all, Ginny. I'm happy to help." Sharona smiled sweetly and Ginny backed off, feeling a little foolish. After all, they'd only met once.

"Well, please come in," she said in an apologetic tone. "The, uhh, loo is over there, and the kitchen, you can see it there. Don't let the kids go up the stairs until bedtime, Markie and Ronnie sleep up there, but it's also my office, and… well, I trust your judgment. My bedroom is in there, put Alice to sleep there, and… that's… pretty much it. Oh, the cat--"

"Lucifer!" said all the kids in varying degrees of volume.

"Yes, Lucifer. He'll probably stay out of the way on his own, but just in case, look out for him. Really, Sharona, thank you so much for helping me out." Ginny was all sincerity.

"Not at all."

"Aunt Sharrie, where are Jamie and Meg?" asked Ronnie, looking very serious, and slightly worried. Ginny tried not to laugh. 

Sharona bent down on her knees, and replied with equal childlike seriousness, "They're at home with their father. They couldn't come tonight because they knew we'd be out too late, but they send their love." The children resumed gleeful bouncing, and Sharona stood up again.

"Why don't you go finish getting dressed, Ginny?"

"Oh, yes, of course! Thank you." She hurried into the bedroom, grabbing her wand on the way, to fix her nylons and finish getting ready. 

"Ginny! Your date is here!" Ginny stared at her reflection in the mirror. _Oh no, I look awful_. She tried to smooth her black dress down over the lumps in her sides, but it was no good. Her hair was curling irritatingly around her ears, and her eyes seemed sunken into her face. She sighed. _Face it, Gin. You'll never be pretty_. With a confidence she did not feel, Ginny picked up her handbag and walked out to meet Neville.

"Ginny, you look lovely!" His smile was so wide and happy. He was sweet, really. 

"Thank you," she said, as she detached Markie from Neville's leg. 

"Be good for Sharona, kids." She waited for the nod from Sharona, reassuring her that everything was under control, and then she and Neville Apparated out of the flat. 

* * *

Ginny leaned against the door of her flat. She knew she should go in. Sharona would want to go home. She and Neville had gone to a sleek restaurant in London. The evening hadn't bee as awkward as she's expected. Neville was sweet, and in some ways very innocent still. He'd insisted on champagne this time, though Ginny tried not to drink much. Then they'd gone for a walk in a park, and it had all been really lovely. 

_I'm just tired_, she thought, and wearily pushed open the door. 

Quiet voices greeted her upon entry, and she opened the door fully to stand before Draco and Sharona sitting on the sofa in deep conversation. Ginny stared, too shocked to speak.

"Oh, Ginny," said Sharona, looking relieved. "I'm so glad you're here. I could've just about given up hope. The kids are all in bed now, and I must be getting home. Nice meeting you, Draco. G'night, Ginny." Sharona grabbed her coat and walked out Ginny's open door. Ginny continued to stare at Draco in disbelief. He had sat up and was now looked at her with his chin resting in his hands, his expression unreadable.

"Harry's wife, eh?" he said at last. "She's nice. Pretty." He leaned back casually and picked at a loose thread on the arm of the sofa. Ginny finally stirred and stepped fully into the flat, shutting the door. 

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I came by to see you. You weren't here."

"I _know_ I wasn't here. What did you want?"

"To. See. You."

"Then… why didn't you leave when I wasn't here?"

"Well, Sharona was here." Her stomach twisted into horrible knots. "So you're watching Ron and Hermione's brats, hmm?" 

_Oh, no you don't_.

"Don't change the subject, Draco." Her voice sounded sharp and angry in her own ears.

"What subject? We seemed to have already resolved it." Why was he doing this? Why was he being so cruel? To _her_? She dropped her handbag on the coffee table and moved into her bedroom to check on Alice. Draco followed her.

"So… Neville Longbottom, eh? And how was it, then?" His voice was tight. Ginny avoided looking at him, took off her earrings and mussed up her hair.

"My date? It was lovely. I like Neville." She turned to him and smiled brightly and walked past him out of the room. "Sorry I got upset over you talking to Sharona. Really was silly. Sometimes I start to think like you're mine, and nobody else has a right to bend your ear. I'm glad you liked her. Thirsty?" 

"No. I should go, Ginny." She finally turned around to face him. He looked tired and worn. He smiled wanly at her and reached over to squeeze her shoulder. 

"I'll see you later, Gin. 'Night." Draco Apparated out, leaving Ginny alone in her dark kitchen. She shuffled back to her bedroom and changed into an oversized shirt and a pair of pyjamas with Snitches on them. It was a few seconds before she realized they were Harry's, back from when they'd been dating. She quickly changed out of them and put on her own white pyjamas. 

She curled up in the bed, next to Alice. Lucifer was missing. She took one of the pillows and clutched it to her. She didn't know why, but she felt absolutely terrible. Her stomach was twisted into gruesome knots, and in an effort to loosen them, tears began to stream from her eyes in continuous, stinging rivers. 


	5. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Well, here it is, at long last! I sincerely apologize to all my readers for the delay. The... year long delay. Oh, I'm goin' to the special hell. Anyway, thanks for hanging in, I think it'll be worth the wait. (sends fudge to all her reviewers) Enjoy, all!

**Chapter 4**

Ginny's bed was moving. Now, that didn't make sense; why would her bed be moving if she wasn't moving it? There was innocent laughter, and as the bed moved again, there was a small, sharp pain on her back.

"Oww," Ginny groaned as she stumbled into consciousness. She realised that it was a child making her bed move, and that it was a child's tiny foot that had hit her in the back. She grumbled sleepily.

"Alice, what are you doing?" Alice didn't answer, just giggled and bounced even more. When Ginny cracked open a groggy eye, she could see Markie on the floor, looking reverent. Ronnie was nowhere to be found. She groaned again and rolled over. She'd just have to deal with this. She grabbed Alice by the ankles and pulled her down onto the bed. Alice squealed and giggled happily with child-like delight. At this, Markie also climbed up on the bed and began to bounce. Ginny repeated the process with him and Alice for a few minutes before scooping them up and carrying them out into the living room, one under each arm.

"All right, where's your brother?" she asked them as she set them down on the sofa. Alice pointed to Markie and giggled. Ginny, hands on her hips, glared sternly down at them. "Your other brother?"

"Right here, Aunt Ginny," called Ronnie, poking his head out of the loft.

"Come down and have breakfast, Ronnie." He obliged, climbing carefully down the ladder.

"It's cold." He was shivering, and, Ginny noticed, so were the other two. She quickly went back to her room and rummaged in her nightstand for her wand.

"Better?" she asked after she had charmed the flat. It was a Muggle flat, and it had a thermostat, but Ginny didn't really trust it and just left it off. All three nodded happily. She used her wand to toast bread and to get jam and butter out of the fridge for breakfast. She ate with them, and they all munched quietly and contentedly.

"So, what do you kids want to do today? I'm free all day," Ginny said as she wiped crumbs from the table. The response was overwhelming.

"All right, all right, calm down, you three. One at a time." It was decided that they would go to the zoo, and Ginny set about packing whatever "picnic" food she had in the house; the children bounced around with glee, shouting and giving her a headache.

* * *

Ginny sat on a bench in the London zoo, a sleeping Alice curled up next to her. Ronnie and Markie were hanging about in the general area, admiring tigers, hippopotami, and a sick-looking orangutan. While they were playing and Alice was sleeping, Ginny was busy thinking about her column. Her next instalment was due in three days, and she hadn't even chosen a topic.

"Auntie Ginny, why aren't there dragons in the zoo?" asked Ronnie, coming up to her with a questioning look on his face. "I want to see one."

"Because it's a Muggle zoo," she replied, then as an afterthought added, "besides, I don't think they'd keep dragons in zoos." Ronnie looked downcast and trudged back to his brother. He soon forgot his disappointment, however, when one of the zookeepers came out and started feeding the tigers.

But that got Ginny thinking. Why wasn't there a Wizarding zoo? A zoo with magical creatures, as well as normal ones. Before she realized it, she'd settled a topic for her instalment.

* * *

"All right, you lot. Let's get settled," said Ginny, looking sternly at her three charges. They were seated on the sofa and looked up at her innocently. "Now, Auntie Ginny has to work," she continued, "so you'll have to entertain yourselves for awhile. Can you do that?" They nodded vigorously.

"Good. Now, here're the rules: you may not come into the loft unless there's an emergency. You may not play in Auntie Ginny's room-no, Alice, not even you. You may play with pots and pans in the kitchen, but you may not get out food. You may play in the living room, but you are not to go near this area." She gestured towards the corner where her stereo equipment was situated. "And, under no circumstances are you to go outside or answer the door. If somebody knocks, come get me." With that, she nodded and left the room, leaving the children to play with their toys and whatever bits of furniture they wished to improvise with.

Ginny ascended the ladder to the loft, followed closely by Lucifer, and shut and bolted the trapdoor behind her. She sat for a minute on the floor, Lucifer rubbing against her knee, and revelled in the silence. It was heavenly. A pot crashed to the floor in the kitchen, and children shouted and giggled. _Ah, well, _she sighed. _At least it's muffled. _

She stood and walked to her desk, eagerly getting out clean parchment and a quill. She sucked on the end of the quill briefly before dipping it in the ink and beginning to write. She had decided earlier to write about the lack of a Wizarding zoo, and she set about the task with relish. Perhaps someone would read it and be inspired.

A few hours later Ginny set down her quill, stretched out her cramped back and shoulders, and sighed wearily. She folded her parchment up. Tomorrow she would get it sent to the _Prophet. _She was rather amazed that she would actually be getting a column in _ahead _of schedule. Perhaps children were a greater inspiration then she had originally thought. With a heavy sigh, she unbolted the latch on the trapdoor and climbed down to the living room.

The children had fallen asleep during the course of the night. She magicked everything back into its proper places and woke up Ronnie and Markie. She made sure they were nicely tucked in on their makeshift beds in the loft before returning to carry Alice into her bedroom.

* * *

The following day, Ginny sat with the three children at her favourite café in Hogsmeade. She had delivered her instalment and was now trying patiently to get the children to use their silverware instead of their hands, to no avail.

"Hello, Ginny!" She looked up from Alice's spoon to see Neville coming towards them. She experienced a brief moment of irritation until she remembered that this was Neville, and she was supposed to be dating him. She smiled warmly and pulled out the fourth chair at their little table. He collapsed into it gratefully.

"I just got off for my lunch break, and I decided to come down here. I had no idea you'd be here." He leaned forward, as if to kiss her on the cheek, but hesitated, not sure if it would be welcome. She settled the matter by turning her cheek to him and meeting him halfway. He backed away after, blushing profusely and refusing to meet her eyes.

"Nice to see you again," he said to the children. Ginny would have giggled at his embarrassment if she had forgotten she was supposed to be dating him. Ronnie started asking Neville questions about his job, and before long Neville had ordered lunch and joined Ginny's battle to civilize her niece and nephews.

"Well, I've got to get back to work." He smiled at the children and patted them each on the head. "Thank you for a lovely lunch. Uh, Ginny… would you like to… uh… have dinner with me, again?"

"Of course, Neville. How does Saturday sound?"

"Fantastic. See you, then." He bent down and kissed her on the cheek again. Again, she forced herself not to laugh as he walked away, face red. Alice sighed dreamily, and Ronnie and Markie started giggling and making jokes.

"Oh, hush, you two," she snapped, stacking crumpled napkins, forks, and knives onto a plate.

* * *

Saturday came, of course, and Sharona arrived once again to babysit. Ginny was really starting to appreciate Harry's quiet, delicate, angelic wife. She seemed to know just exactly what to do all the time. She waved goodbye to the children and smiled gratefully at Sharona before taking Neville's proffered arm and stepping out of the flat.

The restaurants they ate at all seemed to be the same. They had different names, but mostly they were carbon copies of each other, and Ginny wondered briefly if Neville had so little imagination that he really couldn't think of anything different for them to do. Then she remembered she was on a date with him and smiled cheerfully.

She arrived home to the children all asleep and Sharona reading _Witch Weekly _on the sofa.

"You're a real dear for doing this for me," she told petite brunette and kicked off her pumps.

"Oh, don't mention it Ginny. You know… I've been wanting to talk to you." Ginny turned and looked at her. She could tell the woman was being serious, even though her expression really didn't seem that much different. Sharona always had a very placid look to her. But at the moment it was marred by a very slight wrinkle in her brow.

"Yes?"

"Well, you see, I guess it's sort of about our relationship. And… well, I don't really have any family, except Harry and the kids. I have a great-uncle somewhere in Egypt, I think. And when I first met Harry, I didn't really want to date him, because he had no family, either. But, well, Harry is very persistent and quite stubborn, as I'm sure _you_ know." Sharona smiled delicately at her, and Ginny chuckled. "And once he'd convinced me to go out with him, he started telling me about these people. He told me all about these wonderful people, and I didn't really understand why. But, you see Ginny, they were his family. Even though he didn't have any relatives, he _did _have a family. And ever since then, I've been waiting so I could meet you all. You're Harry's family." Ginny was struck for a moment, and didn't know what to say. She stared at the floor and contemplated.

They were. She knew that. The Weasley family had adopted Harry the first time they met him. Ginny's mother had always wanted she and Harry to marry because then he'd be a real part of the family, but that didn't matter. Molly Weasley looked at Harry as her son. Ginny's brothers looked at Harry as another brother. And now Sharona had become part of the family.

"Would you like to have tea with me some afternoon? Maybe when Ron and Hermione get back?" she asked, quietly. Sharona broke out in the biggest smile Ginny had ever seen cross her face. It made Ginny feel like she was filled with warmth and sunlight.

"I'd like that very much," said Sharona, pulling Ginny into a rather aggressive hug for such a tiny woman. Ginny saw her wipe a tear away from her eye, and she walked her to the door.

She went to bed that night feeling very much as if everything were right with the world. Then Alice kicked her. But Ginny decided it was not really that bad; Alice had short legs, anyway.

* * *

"Is everything alright, Gin?" asked her brother Bill as he handed her a cup of coffee, concern etched across his face.

"Huh?" Ginny came back to reality with a jerk and realized where she was. "Oh, yes, Bill, everything's alright. I just…" she looked around the kitchen of the Burrow suspiciously. "Is mum here?"

Bill laughed. "No, she went out to lunch with some friends. What is it you want to tell me?" He sat down across from her, cradling his own cup of coffee.

"She wants to have lunch with me," Ginny told him.

"Who does?"

"Giselda Penniworth."

"You're not serious, are you?"

Ginny shook her head. It was all in the letter she'd gotten today. She'd gone to her box in Hogsmeade to get her fan mail, as usual, and discovered a letter, handwritten, from Giselda Penniworth, at the bottom of the pile. She had said, in very flowery terms, that Ginny was the most-read columnist in the Wizarding world. She wanted Ginny to have lunch with her, and perhaps they could discuss a potential arrangement to have Ginny do a series about Giselda's wedding.

Secretly, Ginny had always rather wanted to do a series, but her editor at the _Prophet_ didn't really trust her to get her column written on time, if she was also working on a series. But… if she had an offer from Giselda Penniworth-A Ginny Weasley Exclusive! Only in the _Daily Prophet!_ She could just see the front page, with a picture of Giselda and her media-shy fiancé dressed to the nines and smiling gaily, with herself standing meekly behind, quill and parchment in hand.

"Ginny, you're drifting off again" Bill's voice cut in to her fantasies once again.

"Sorry, Bill." She offered him an apologetic look and sipped her coffee.

"Well, you're not actually thinking of going, are you?"

"Yes, Bill, I am. It can't hurt, and… well, I'm curious." Bill's eyebrow went up and he shot her a quizzical look.

"I want to meet this woman that inspires such adoration in all the witches, wizards, and Muggles of the world. Find out what it is about her that they all flock to her. And to see if she's as pretty in person as she is in the pictures." Bill laughed and Ginny giggled, and they finished their coffee in amicable silence.

* * *

Ginny left the Burrow in just enough time to get home before Adda Finkle, a friend of Ron and Hermione's, returned the children home from a play date with her three young ones.

"Honestly, they are such the sweetest angels, you must be the proudest aunt." Adda Finkle had a very high-pitched, nasally voice, and when she smiled, her bright pink, pudgy cheeks squished her beady eyes into wrinkly slits. Ginny wished she'd leave.

"I am, and thank you ever so much. Well, I must be getting supper ready, they'll be hungry after such a long day. Thank you so much for bringing them home. Apparate safely, goodnight!" She ushered the woman out the door, and shut and bolted it behind her.

The children had indeed had a long day, and long days tend to make small children cranky, as Ginny learned that evening while she was going about their usual routine. By the time spaghetti and meatballs were ready to be consumed, Markie was asleep on the sofa, Ronnie was in the corner taking punishment for a tantrum, Lucifer was nursing a stomped on foot, and Alice was in tears, utterly inconsolable.

"Oh, hush, baby, everything's all right. Look what Auntie Ginny made for supper. Your mummy told me that was your favourite." Ginny was cradling the crying child in her lap and gesturing wildly at the kitchen. But Alice continued to cry.

"I want my mummeeeeeeeeeeee!" she wailed. Ginny sighed and hugged her niece closer to her. She was just about to give up and put the poor thing to bed when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" she shouted, feeling very harassed.

Much to her surprise, in walked Draco. Ginny was suddenly keenly aware that her hair was tangled and mussed, she was only wearing one sock, her sweatpants looked decidedly too baggy, and there was a large tomato sauce stain on the front of her shirt. She could practically feel the bags under her eyes sagging even deeper in the presence of this immaculately dressed, perfectly pressed, every hair in place… _god_ among men.

"Oh bollocks," she said, to which Alice wailed even louder, and Markie woke up, heard his sister, and began to cry as well.

"Hush now, young man, there's absolutely nothing wrong with you. Now go wash your hands and face, and you can get some supper." At Draco's stern, yet surprisingly gentle tone, Markie immediately quit crying and went to follow orders. Ginny stared, open-mouthed.

Ronnie was struggling to escape his magical binding to the corner, so that he too, could go wash up and have supper. Draco freed him with a flick of his wand and turned to face Ginny, who was still cradling Alice.

"Now, what's wrong with you?" he asked her, bending down to look her in the eye, all trace of sternness gone from his voice, and replaced with gentle concern.

"I want my mummy," replied Alice, clinging all the more tightly to Ginny's hair and shirt.

"Why?" asked Draco. Alice looked at him as if he had purple hair and a pumpkin for a nose. Ginny noticed that she had stopped crying.

"Because mummy makes it better," she answered him, as if anybody should know that.

"Really? How does she do that?"

"She… she… she just does. Don't _you_ have a mummy?"

"No." Alice was shocked beyond all belief and could not respond. However, Ginny noticed over the course of the night that Alice took extra pains to do things for Draco, and gave him an extra big hug before she went to bed and a sloppy kiss on the forehead.

"I think she was trying to be your mummy," Ginny told him after the kids were in bed and she and Draco were lounging on the sofa with glasses of Chardonnay.

"Yes, probably. But I got her to stop crying, now didn't I?" He smirked at her, and she lobbed a pillow at his head.

"I'm really not good with children. I don't know what ever possessed me to take them in for almost a month. I think I was temporarily insane. I don't even like having people my own age around; why on earth would I want miniatures!" She sighed and closed her eyes, as if to hide from her own madness.

"Oh, nonsense," said Draco earnestly. "Why, those children adore you. Sharona may be the good aunt, pardon the expression, but you're the one they'll go to in the years to come with the teenage troubles they fear to tell their parents. You're a surrogate. You're not their mother, but you're more than their aunt." He smiled at her. Genuinely smiled. Ginny realized it was an expression few others were permitted to see cross the face of Draco Malfoy.

"Thank you," she said, and truly meant it with every inch of her.

"You're absolutely welcome, my—er… Ginny." She looked at him quizzically, but he only shrugged and sat up.

"I think I've drunk too much wine, tonight. I'd best get home before I'm too drunk and end up splinching myself." He set his half-full wine glass on the table and leaned over to kiss her cheek.

"Goodnight, Draco."

"G'night, Gin." He smirked and Apparated out.

It was only the next day, as Ginny was cleaning up, that she realized that Draco's only half-empty wine glass had been the first she'd poured for him.

* * *

_Don't be nervous, don't be stupid; this is your job. You're a journalist. I know so far you've only written editorials, but that doesn't make you any less of a journalist. And anyway, it's only lunch. You're not saying you're doing it yet. It's just lunch. To test the waters, see how things might work._

This was what Ginny repeated to herself all the while as she prepared for her lunch with Giselda Penniworth. She continued to tell herself this, in a vain attempt to calm the butterflies in her stomach, as she left her apartment, walked down to the Metro, and took a train to the Muggle restaurant where she was to meet Ms. Penniworth for lunch. She could not help being nervous. She had grown more and more fond of the idea of writing her own series, of telling the story. She loved her little column, she really did, but she had begun to cherish bigger dreams. There were stories to tell, and she wanted to tell them. If this thing worked out, it could change her life entirely.

That's what had her so nervous. She desperately wanted this series with Penniworth to work, but she knew there was a high chance is could not. She would not compromise herself to make Giselda look good. She would not spin the story. She wanted to write the truth, and it was highly probable that Penniworth would never let her. All the tentative plans she had been making could suddenly burst. She had known not to get her hopes up, but had found it impossible to keep them down.

The restaurant was suddenly before her, and she was not wholly prepared for it to be there. She stood on the sidewalk with people walking past her in every direction-constant bustle-and studied the building. It looked remarkably like a restaurant straight out of Neville's dinner dates—in fact, she could not quite remember, but she thought they'd actually been to this one.

With a heavy heart, and an even heavier sigh, Ginny gathered her wits about her and walked confidently into the restaurant.

It was just the type of place Penniworth would pick for an interview like this. Upscale, ritzy—everything about it screamed "money." It made all Ginny's nerves tingle with rage. It was just like the bribe. She began to feel that even if Giselda let her write the series honestly, she couldn't bear to work with such a woman anyway.

"Can I 'elp you, mees?" asked a snooty maitre d'. She stared at him for a moment, icily superior, before replying.

"Yes, I'm here to see Giselda Penniworth; I have a lunch date." The horrible man looked down his horrible pointed nose and raised his eyebrow suspiciously.

"What ees your name, mees?"

She drew herself up to her full height, set a stony expression onto her face, and replied in commanding tones: "Ginny Weasley, journalist." He scanned his books for her name. He obviously found it, because he looked up, attempted to smile, and told her to follow him to her table. Ms. Penniworth had not yet arrived, but he was sure she would be there in no time.

_Of course. She can't possibly get here first, it wouldn't be fashionable. _It was a struggle for Ginny not to roll her eyes.

The maitre d' seated her at a table, quietly out of the way and tastefully set. He walked away without leaving a menu or taking a drink order, and Ginny felt grossly offended. She sat, wringing her hands nervously under the table and intently studying the red carnation in the glass vase at the centre of the table.

When Giselda Penniworth finally did arrive, after what Ginny considered to be a good fifteen minutes, she was not at all prepared for the commanding woman who swooped into the restaurant and instantly made herself the centre of attention.

She was definitely a beautiful woman, Ginny had to admit, with some asperity. She was tall and svelte, with round hips and a full bust. She was lean, and her features were elegant and aristocratic. Her skin was smooth as porcelain, and her rich chestnut hair was settled into a perfect coif, not a tendril out of place. It was nearly impossible for Ginny not to feel gawky and fat compared to her. Her hair had always been a wild mess, and she hadn't been getting much sleep lately. She was dressed as usual in comfortable slacks and plain t-shirt. Giselda, of course, was decked out in a skirt suit, in spring green, with matching pumps and a chunky, green glass necklace.

Ginny gathered up her courage and stood to meet the approaching woman. She offered her hand, but Penniworth bypassed it in favour of gripping Ginny firmly by both shoulders and kissing the air beside both Ginny's cheeks.

"Oh, aren't you delightful! I'm so happy to see you, so glad you came. Oh, won't you please sit down! You have no idea how much I've been anticipating our meeting. Why, you're not at all what I expected; so young. Oh, and your hair! Why, isn't that marvellous. What shocking red hair, such a dear, unique colour. Oh, nothing to my plain old brown, I must look a complete bore beside you! How delightful you are, oh, and such elegant features. What a darling. And your dress! So bohemian! Oh, what a treasure you are. I've always admired the bohemian lifestyle. You are indeed a charming girl. Please, please have a seat. This is such a lovely little corner. Ah! Waiter! Fetch us some drinks please. I'll have a Lemon Twist, and you dear? Ah, I can guess your drink; gin for the lady here. And tonic? Yes, I think perhaps you are a gin and tonic. Well then, young man, fetch us drinks. Ah, once we have our drinks, we can get down to the meat of the matter. Oh, how charming and delightful this little café is; why, I'm speechless. And you, my dear, what a compliment to have you sit with me."

Ginny could hardly believe her senses after such an assault as that. The woman was a whirlwind, and Ginny was hard put not to stand, mouth agape, and stare. She managed to reseat herself at the table and gather her wits about her. As soon as she was back in herself, she had time to think over the woman's speech. Almost nothing she said had any ring of being genuine, and Ginny felt that she was being subtly insulted. She had come in, asked Ginny to sit down, as if Ginny had not been their first, and had actually ordered her drink for her. Although, Ginny did have to admit that she had read her tastes pretty well.

Then Ginny noticed it. She could hardly believe she hadn't noticed it before, but she hadn't. And there it was, like a beacon. It was Giselda's engagement ring. It suited her, really, and Ginny could hardly believe a woman like Penniworth would accept anything less, but Ginny found it excessive. It was yellow gold, and the rock was, for lack of a better word, huge. A monster of a diamond resting on her finger, like some sort of abnormal growth. It was the biggest diamond Ginny had ever seen, certainly the largest she'd ever seen on a ring. In fact, she found it downright gaudy. It was too big, too conspicuous, too everything. No, she decided; she would never, ever want to wear a ring like that.

Their drinks arrived, quite quickly, and after a dainty sip of her Lemon Twist, Giselda set the glass down and looked at Ginny with false sincerity.

"I must say, I was so afraid you would not agree to meet with me today. But I am ever so glad that you did. I know you do not really care for my celebrity status, and I respect that. You're a very opinionated young woman, and that is so refreshing these days. I've been a great fan of your column ever since that one you did… oh, I can't remember, which one was it? When you talked about the things… ooohhh." She fluttered her hands in distress, and the whine in her voice reminded Ginny of Alice in a temper. It was disgusting, really, in a grown woman like Giselda.

Keeping her cool, Ginny calmly replied, "I'm fairly certain that you'd never read an instalment of my column at all until I said something bad about you." The words sounded more casual and confident than Ginny felt, and she was glad of it. She took a drink of her gin and tonic and watched Giselda's mask waver for a second before it settled into a more calm and serious look.

"Well, I can see you're an intelligent woman, Miss Weasley. May I call you Ginny?" At Ginny's nod, she continued. "I'll get to business then. I'm getting married in a few months, and I'm just beginning my wedding plans. You're a very popular writer, people like you and respect your opinions. And I find your writing most refreshing," Ginny didn't miss the lapse into phoniness, but she supposed, for a woman like Penniworth, it was hard to be sincere. "I need to promote my tour, and since people are so interested in my wedding, I'd like to have it covered. I'm no more a fool than you, Ginny, and I know how vital this could be to your career. I'm prepared to give you the exclusive."

Ginny took a breath, and took her time. It was not to her advantage in this to appear too eager. She sipped her drink and looked at Miss Penniworth, coolly and calmly, appearing to think it over.

"And what, may I ask, will I have to do in return for your exclusive?" It was good to get the catches out of the way at first; then she didn't have to worry about them.

"Only print what is approved by me and my publicity team. It's really very simple, you'll—"

"Absolutely not," Ginny interrupted. "If I'm to write this, I'm to tell the truth. I'll not compromise my journalistic integrity to get your scoop. I can make my own way in this business, after all. I'm a good writer, and people like me." Ginny looked as if she were prepared to leave. She was fairly certain Penniworth would take the bait, but she didn't want to risk it.

"All right, all right, wait. I know it's not fair of me to ask you to do that. Perhaps we can work something else out. Maybe, if you only stick to the facts-about the wedding-and leave out everything else…?"

"Won't make for very interesting reading."

"Well, you can't suppose, Miss Weasley, that I would let you write whatever you want. I have to gain from this as well, you know."

"The way I see it, _Ms. _Penniworth, is that any kind of publicity is good publicity—whether _you_ look good or not makes no matter."

"Well it matters to me!" Giselda suddenly shouted the words and slammed her fists against the table in frustration. Ginny had known this was not likely to work—yet she really did want this story. She eyed her drink for a minute, thinking over her possibilities.

"All right, how about we compromise. I'll print only the good—I won't spin anything for you, but I won't print anything negative—and I'll do this, if you'll agree to sign a release contract. A binding magical contract, in your own name and ink, saying that if anything in the essential planning of the wedding goes wrong, I can print it. Like, if you suddenly decide to run off with a groomsman, or a crazed bride's maid sets fire to the church." She knew having all those family members at the Ministry hadn't been for nothing!

Giselda appeared to think it over.

"Well… I suppose that would work—but only something really drastic? Such as your examples? You'll say nothing bad about me?"

"Only something very, very wrong. Something just so newsworthy, it can't be passed up. It's really not interesting to write about you having a tantrum over the flowers being the wrong colour, and only makes the article seem like tabloids. But if something goes very wrong, I want to be able to write about it. And if nothing goes very wrong, then everyone will get their fairy tale wedding, and you'll get your publicity."

"And all I have to do is sign a slip paper?"

"Magical paper, Penniworth. Binding magical contract."

"Then it's settled. Oh, isn't this delightful!" The pair shook hands and ordered lunch. The rest of the meal passed in Ginny burying herself in her food or her drink, and Giselda returning to her false and cheery self. She rattled on the rest of the meal, and Ginny really found it incredible that she had not gone deaf out of self-defence.

_If I manage to stick with this, it'll be a miracle. And I damn well better get something out of this.

* * *

_

Ginny was in such good spirits that night that she decided to take the children out for supper to celebrate. She made sure they were all clean and properly dressed, and then laid down the ground rules.

"You, Ronnie, will hold my hand at all times, and you, Markie, will hold my other hand. Alice, you will hold Ronnie's hand, and if I catch you letting go, even once, for any reason, we will go straight home. You will behave and do as I say, and if you do not, we will go straight home. You will sit in your seats in the restaurant, and you will not get up, even once, or we will go straight home. If you have to use the loo, I will go with you. You will be quiet, and not scream and bother the other customers, or we will go straight home. If you are all very, very good all evening, then we will order dessert. However, at the end of the night, if I say no, you will not whine, or beg, or cry. Are we all clear?"

"Yes, Aunt Ginny," they intoned seriously. The promise of dessert loomed before them and tempted them all to be on their utmost best behaviour. Ginny had never taken children into a restaurant, and was somewhat wary of the experience. She was beginning to feel, however, that she was getting better at this parenting thing, and maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to control them tonight. It was worth a shot, anyway.

Once they had all gotten their hand holding straight, she opened up the door and they all headed out of the flat. She was going to take them to a pub she'd passed a few times, just a little way down the street. It was not too far for the children to walk, and she felt the more informal atmosphere would best suit a meal with children. She knew she could not take them to a nice restaurant, and out of the courtesy to all the other Ginnys out there, she would not take them to a café (knowing full well how violated she would feel if her own precious café were invaded by screaming, antsy children).

They arrived in safety, and were seated in safety, and, happily, managed to order in safety. But then Alice and Markie both had to use the toilet, and Ginny did not want to leave Ronnie alone. She tried to get him to come with, but he was far more interested in colouring on his placemat. She flagged down the waitress and asked if someone could watch him. The poor girl seemed a bit harassed, but agreed to do it, probably in hopes of getting a higher tip. Ginny would certainly oblige her.

The children were somewhat difficult in the loo. She had never had to accompany anyone before, and she was called upon to aid in all manner of ways she had never thought possible. They certainly seemed capable of fending for themselves at home, but in public, they needed help with their zippers, or their buttons, or the toilet-seat covers, and of course they both needed Ginny's intent assistance to wash their hands properly. She got them out of there in ten minutes, just barely ignoring the glares of women who had to wait while the small children went "tinkle" or got water splashed on their handbags. Ginny mumbled an embarrassed apology and headed back to the table.

Someone had come to replace Ginny's waitress in watching Ronnie, Ginny assumed so the woman could see to her other customers. Their food arrived, and the meal passed without much excitement, which Ginny was eternally grateful for. The children were getting antsy by the end of it, but Ginny still felt they earned their dessert.

At home, she somewhat felt her error. There were chocolate smears on everything, and she had to get all the kids washed. It seemed quite an impossible task, and now they were extremely energetic from the sugar. She knew it would take a miracle to get them to bed.

After she managed to wash them all, only barely managing the two boys by getting them in the tub and the same time and scrubbing furiously and quickly, she spent fifteen minutes chasing them around and attempting to get them into their pyjamas before giving up and throwing herself onto the sofa and leaning her head back. The children were screaming and laughing in the other room, and her ears were crying for some peace and quiet. After Penniworth, the restaurant, and the children, Ginny would not have been surprised if they had begun to bleed by the end of the day. Then she had a stroke of pure genius. The children had a lot of energy now, but they were still children, and they only needed a little wearing out, and they would be out like lanterns.

It was brilliant. So brilliant, in fact, Ginny was not quite sure she'd really come up with it. But as there was no one else to give the credit to, she had to satisfy herself that it was her own idea, and get on with it.

"Children! Come play with Auntie, come on, my little ducklings!" she cried in a sing-song voice, enticing the children into the sitting room and grabbing her wand. "Come here, Alice, my love. Don't you want to dance with Auntie?"

"Dance?" asked the small child. "But we don't have music."

"Hahaha, but of course we do." And with a flick of her wand, there was music. Her stereo lights flicked on cheerfully, and out poured Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody, and Auntie Ginny managed to dance her boisterous nephews and niece into a peaceful and very deep slumber.

As she happily crawled into bed with Alice cuddled beside her, Ginny reflected that she was definitely getting better at this parenting business.

* * *

"Just think, Grand, a _Daily Prophet_ exclusive—Giselda Penniworth's wedding. We've got the scoop, and we'll be the only paper in all of England to have it." Ginny was sitting on an empty desk in the _Daily Prophet _newsroom across from her editor, Levi Grand, who was gnawing on his lower lip, looking dubious.

"I dunno, Weasley. You can barely get your column instalments in on time, how are you gonna manage a series?" He was leaning against the desk opposite her, looking frazzled and crotchety—very much a newspaper man. Levi fit into almost every stereotype of a news editor there was—except he was a Charms wiz, and had a tendency to come up with plenty of nasty little charms to use on his writers. His lower lip was chewed ragged, and there was plenty of premature grey in his hair. Of course, he was fifty-six years old, but the grey had been there ever since he'd been made editor twenty years ago. He was always missing his glasses—Ginny suspected on purpose—so that he was constantly squinting at you. It could be unnerving.

"Come on, Lee, you can't pass this up, and you know it. Penniworth wants me. She's not offering this to anyone else, and if you don't take this up, you're out of luck. This woman can be airtight when she wants to be. The rich are like that. You won't be able to get one tiny little detail out of her if you don't let me do this series." He still seemed a bit sceptical, but Ginny knew he could be convinced. He had to be convinced, and this _was_ a very good scoop. "Please, Lee?" she asked, changing tactics. "This could be my chance to break into the news. I know you don't want to lose the column, but I've got to have something else to do; I get bored. And I can still write editorials. Just, please, let me do this series. Let me prove I'm a real journalist." That caught his attention. He looked at her, his clear blue eyes squinting at her under those bushy eyebrows.

"Of course you're a real journalist, Weasley, and don't ever let anyone say otherwise. Everyone at the _Prophet_ is a journalist, kid."

"So then let me write a real story." She stared intently at him, willing him with her eyes to see how important this was to her. He sighed and worried his lip. Grand could definitely be a hard ass about things, but he cared about his writers. He cared about what they did.

She was to start work next week, after the kids were home. Colin Creevey was assigned to work photo with her on it, and Ginny had never felt so eager to start something in her life. And Neville had brought her tiger lilies when he came for their next date. It didn't really matter that she was allergic to tiger lilies, and had had to throw them out immediately. Neville had brought them from the bottom of his dear, sweet, cheery heart. Maybe next time, they could actually do something exciting. But, Ginny figured, she had enough excitement at the prospect of her own-her very own-series: a Ginny Weasley, _Daily Prophet_ exclusive.


End file.
